Charcoal Kisses
by MRACR
Summary: Life is wonderful for Max, except she keeps thinking about Fang. When something happens to him, will that change? Will it even matter anymore? Oneshot. Fax. I wanted this story to be a RomanceCookies story, but they don't have that option, sadly...


**Ok...another oneshot. Faxness of course...just another random oneshot created because I felt like it lol. I really hope it's good, even though I fear it's not...please review and tell me what you thought of it!!!!!!! Oh, and the title, I'm pretty sure it sucks but it just randomly came to me so I put that down...lol...**

Charcoal Kisses

_Fang._

_Fang._

_Fang._

His name swirled around in my brain like cream in coffee—no, like _sugar_ in coffee…so sweet, so perfect.

_Fang._

Wait a minute. What the heck?! What in the world was I doing thinking about Fang like that?

"Hey Max!" I heard the call from the kitchen. Mom. We were back with her, visiting for awhile, and I was _supposed _to be helping bake cookies, not daydreaming about Fang…I still had no clue what that was about.

I ran to the kitchen and nearly collided with Ella, causing her to spill flour all over her purple apron. She giggled, though.

"That's what they're for, right?"

I started laughing, too, and we started making the cookies. Oh those delicious, amazing, warm pieces of heaven. Even Fang couldn't resist them.

What the—why was I thinking about Fang, still?

I heard a low chuckle come from the living room. _My thoughts are my own, Jeb, Angel,_ I told them sternly. Two people in the same house reading my mind. Not cool.

Angel thought it was sweet how we liked each other but wouldn't admit it so instead covered it up by arguing all the time.

Jeb said it was natural to feel this way; we were changing, growing teenagers, 2 percent avian or not.

I personally wanted to forget the whole thing. Fang and I had already talked, and we knew that there was little likelihood of us actually staying together. Everyone broke up nowadays. So we decided that being together was impossible; if we broke up, it would cause a rift that would forever divide our flock.

That was that.

My head said so, but my thoughts were stuck on some stupid broken record, playing over and over his name.

_Fang._

_Fang._

Ella and I were sitting at the counter, eating our wonderfully fresh cookies—pure bliss. The rest of the flock was somewhere…I wasn't quite sure but whenever we came here, I knew they'd be safe, so I let them have a bit more free reign than usual.

Everything was fine, I was content. As I said, pure bliss.

Until the scream. It was Angel.

I was out of the chair and by her side so quickly I almost got there before I left. She had this horrified look on her face, and I quickly turned to look at what she was gaping at.

My hand flew to my mouth. Iggy had just landed in the yard, carrying Fang who looked like someone had run him over with a lawn mower…multiple times. Nudge and Gazzy weren't anywhere to be seen but at that moment the only thought my brain could produce was

_NotFangNotFangNotFangNotFangNotFang._

Iggy was setting him down on the ground and had obviously heard me coming over because he didn't call for me. He just ran his hands lightly over Fang's injuries, cataloguing them.

Fang wasn't conscious, which was probably a bonus for him. I finally got my brain in gear enough to ask Iggy what happened.

"Bomb. Not ours," was his terse reply. Angel had run in and grabbed the first aid kit, mentally telling Nudge to get Mom. All on Iggy's orders.

"Whose?" I managed, starting to take Fang's tattered jacket off to press against the side of his head, stopping the bleeding. "Never mind. Start at the beginning."

"We were out flying, talking. Fang saw something suspicious and landed to check it out. I heard the bomb getting ready to blow, but couldn't warn him in time. I landed and brought him back here." How was that for nutshelling?

Fang's eyes opened, just barely. "'M fine," he said groggily.

"No, Fang, you're not. Stop trying to sit up. Just stay still. Mom's coming. We're going to get you fixed up," I said, each short sentence punctuated by me trying to push Fang back to the ground. He had to be in some major pain.

Finally Mom came out in a rush to the once-again-unconscious-from-major-lack-of-blood Fang. Taking one look at him, she decided she needed to get him into the clinic.

"Get him into the car while I call ahead to make sure no one is there," she said, keeping her cool. Which was more than I could say for myself.

_NotFangNotFangNotFang_

We tried our best not to jar him when we put him in the car, but I'm sure we did. He was grunting occasionally, even though he was unconscious. Finally Mom came back out and we sped off to the clinic.

_Fang._

_Fang._

_Fang._

_Fang._

He was ok. Mom said later that she'd actually thought he was dead for a bit there, but he made it through. He was going to be ok. And the moment she let me, I ran into his room (we'd moved him back to the house), skidding to a stop at his doorway.

When I carefully stepped in, Fang was smirking at my haste, but as soon as he saw my carefully masked expression of worry and relief, his features softened. I gave a barely audible sigh of relief, but Fang heard it.

"You ok?" he asked.

"You?" I countered stubbornly.

"Not answering my question."

"Why should I?"

"Because I asked first."

"You're the one who was hurt."

"So were you."

"Oh, and how do you figure that?"

"You're always hurt when the flock is."

I stopped arguing—a defense mechanism, Jeb told me, to cover up any uncertainty or worry, fear, pain that I felt. But what does he know?—and just looked at Fang, mouth slightly open. He was right. And he'd noticed.

"I'm fine," I said. "If you are," I added in a mumble.

Knowing what I said just from the way I said it, Fang didn't bother asking me to say it again. Which was good for him because I certainly wasn't about to.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

About another minute passed and I wasn't quite sure what to say next. My mind was still on a high from the relief and joy that Fang was ok, and was still reverberating thoughts about him that refused to be banished.

Suddenly I decided that life was too short, especially for us mutants. Today's little fun adventure was proof of that. It was now or never. Personally, I was the now kind of girl.

Before I could actually _do_ anything in that now, however, my mind had completely frozen, my brain going on strike.

_Fang._

It was once again the only thought going through my brain, probably because his mouth was crushed against mine. I'd been standing close to the bed and he'd pulled me down suddenly into a sitting position on the edge of it and started kissing me. Hard.

A sudden shudder went through my body, and in a sudden impulsive desire, my delightfully frozen brain decided that if I clung to Fang, I couldn't lose him. So cling I did. I moved my arms up around his neck and held on tight as we both leaned further into the kiss. Completely disregarding Mom's orders to keep his left arm (which was fractured) still, he held me even tighter than I was holding him.

Remember earlier, how I said that it was pure bliss, being here, safe, eating cookies? Well, I decided that being _here_, holding Fang, kissing him and sobbing into the kiss will held-back tears and pure relief, was more perfect, surer bliss than any other.

Everything was alright, now. Everything.

Sure, Fang still needed to heal, we still needed to figure out whose bomb it was and why it was there, and I had to help clean out the oven from the lumpy piles of charcoal, forgotten in favor of Fang. But none of that mattered. Fang would heal even if he was given less time than it would take a human, the bomb mystery was for another day.

And cookies? They've got nothing on Fang's kiss.


End file.
